Dante made a small choking sound and tried to snatch the knife and taser, but Nana slapped his hand away and put the weapons back in her huge purse. I glanced at Vincent while all of that was going on. His eyes were closed, and he was pinching the bridge of his nose and grinding his teeth. It seemed like he was about two seconds from shrieking and running away, so I liked him immediately.
“Just so you know, your arm and head are going to start to hurt, since you just cut off your morphine drip,” Dante told me.
“He’ll be fine,” Nana said, as she pulled a pale pink zippered hoodie from the shopping bag, tore off the tags, and handed it to me. “I’ve got some edibles in my purse, and this is Vegas, so there’s hooch everywhere. Hell, there’s probably a bar and some slot machines right here in the hospital. Which reminds me, we need to do some gambling after we rescue my new grandson. I haven’t been to Sin City in ages!”
I gingerly put on the jacket, trying to be careful of my injured arm, and looked down at myself. It was cropped and exposed about five inches of my midriff. Also, there were three pastel Care Bears on it, but again, it wasn’t the worst fit. Maybe it was the boatload of narcotic painkillers talking, but I actually kind of liked it.
As I stuck my feet in the Crocs, Dante asked his grandmother, “What would possess you to pick out that sweatsuit for a grown man?”
Vincent answered for her. “She dressed him like that because she can.” It was the first time he’d spoken. “If we allowed her to dress us, that’s exactly what we’d be wearing, too.”
“Damn right,” Nana said, “and Jack looks adorable. Now come on, we’re pushing our luck by staying this long. The cops are going to show up any second, and then it might be hours before we can get out of here.”
I stuck my phone in my pocket and picked up the bag containing my ruined suit, and Dante collected the journal and the magazine he’d been reading. It was Teen Vogue, and when Vincent shot him a look, Dante said, “Don’t judge me. I was reading a surprisingly insightful article, and I want to finish it.”
Vincent raised a brow and asked, “Was it about whether Timothee Chalamet or Shawn Mendes is the bigger babe?”
“The answer is Timothee Chalamet. Duh,” I said. “Now can we go, please?”
We all stepped out into the hallway, and Nana whispered, “The fuzz is staking out the joint! Everyone hang a left and try to look casual while we make a break for it.” Sure enough, a pair of police officers were talking to a nurse at one end of the long hallway, so we went the other direction.
Fortunately, we reached the stairwell without incident. As we made our way downstairs, I muttered, “Shit.” When Dante asked what was wrong, I told him, “You’re right about the morphine wearing off. My arm’s really starting to hurt.”
Nana dug around in her purse of wonders again and handed me a bag of gummy bears. “Be careful with these,” she said. “They look harmless, but they’re actually jam-packed with weed. If you eat too many of them at one time, you’ll be tripping balls.” She glanced at Dante and added, “I’m not saying how I know that.”
He sounded exasperated as he asked, “Why do you even have those?”
She glared at him defiantly. “Why not? The devil’s lettuce is legal in California now, so don’t be a square.”
I selected a bear before offering the open bag to my companions, who all declined. Then I bit its tiny ear off before wrapping the rest in a scrap of the packaging and sticking it in my pocket. Dante chuckled at that and said, “Woah, slow down there, Snoop Dogg. We wouldn’t want you to spiral out of control on your point-zero-zero-one gram of weed.”
“I’ve never had a marijuana edible before. Also, I have no idea what it does when combined with morphine. We have a lot of work to do, and I need to be clear-headed so we can find Reno.”
“Oh shit,” Nana said, “were we supposed to go to Reno? That’s not the same as Vegas.”
While Dante explained about the nickname, we exited through a side door and hurried to the parking lot. A minute later, Vincent pushed a button on a key fob to unlock a big, white SUV with tinted windows.
I climbed into the back seat, curled into a ball, and muttered, “Ugh, I feel like shit.”
“Yeah, again, that’s why you were in the hospital,” Dante said, as he took a seat beside me.
While Vincent started the engine and Nana put on her seat belt, I asked, “Where are we going?”
“I got us a vacation rental. A couple of our family members are already there,” Dante explained. “According to them, it’s a little funky, but it’s also big and private, and that’s all I really care about.”
I forced myself to sit up, which made my head throb. As I pulled my phone from my pocket and jabbed at it, I mumbled, “I need to make a call.”
Romy answered on the first ring with, “Jack? How are you doing?”
“I’ve been better.”
“Why does it sound like you’re in a car?”
“Probably because I’m in a car.”
“They didn’t actually release you, did they?”
“Not exactly.”